


Stitches in time

by Batik



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, HN Secret Cupid gift, M/M, Quilting, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 01:11:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3362237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batik/pseuds/Batik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gives Sherlock a Valentine's gift.</p>
<p>(An odd mix of G-rated affection and occasional bits of explicit innuendo. Rated Mature to be on the safe side.)</p>
<p>(The linked pictures are guides only and are not necessarily indicative of actual colors used. While each may be fine on its own, John has better taste than to try to blend that much disparity in one spot!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stitches in time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [type_40_consulting_detective](https://archiveofourown.org/users/type_40_consulting_detective/gifts), [RoseinMyHand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseinMyHand/gifts).



> I wrote this as a gift for [type_40_consulting_detective](http://archiveofourown.org/users/type_40_consulting_detective/pseuds/type_40_consulting_detective) through the [Homeless Network](http://homelessnetwork-221bcon.tumblr.com/)'s Secret Cupid exchange on Tumblr. I also am sharing it with [roseinmyhand](http://roseinmyhand.tumblr.com/), who was an amazing Secret Cupid to me (but apparently was overlooked by her own Cupid — and that just won't do).

“What’s that?” Sherlock asked, shedding his greatcoat on his way into their flat and hanging it on the peg behind the door.

If he’d given himself a half second to consider it, he could have deduced what was in the large, white box on their coffee table, but curiosity pulled the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. He refused to berate himself, though. John liked to think he could befuddle Sherlock’s usual deductive methods and, truth be told, he did have a far-higher-than-average success rate on that front.

“That,” John said, entering the room from the kitchen, “is for you. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Commercialized holiday designed to sell greeting cards and boxes of chocolates,” Sherlock replied, softening the rather unromantic sentiment by wrapping one arm around John’s waist and pulling him in for a chaste kiss hello.

“Good thing it’s not a greeting card, then. Or a box of chocolates,” John said, his easy smile showing just how unruffled he was by Sherlock’s words.

“That would be enough chocolate for the whole of the Yard — or Mycroft,” Sherlock quipped, leading John to thump his shoulder with the back of his hand.

“You know that’s not fair. Mycroft couldn’t possibly eat as much as you would have the world believe. Not as thin as he is. And the only chocolate I’ve ever seen him eat was those [ridiculously priced truffles from Denmark](http://beforeitsnews.com/alternative/2013/03/top-ten-most-expensive-chocolates-the-world-2602886.html). Not even he could afford a chocolate habit at $2,600 a pound.”

“True,” Sherlock conceded, knowing he’d not do it for anyone but John. “But it’s so much fun to torment him.”

“Well, stop for now and open your gift.”

John pulled away from Sherlock and took the few steps necessary to reach the coffee table. He picked up the box — both hands, gift size and/or weight proportional to its container then — and handed it to Sherlock.

Illogical, considering Sherlock would need to return it to the coffee table if he were to stand any chance of opening the box without assistance. But he was capable of learning, and past experience told him to keep his mouth shut as he accepted the box, tested its weight with a subtle jostle — no sound to speak of, minimal shifting of the not-insubstantial weight inside — and smiled his thanks at John before sinking onto the couch, placing the box beside him and lifting the lid.

It didn’t take long for Sherlock to realize that, once again, his doctor/soldier/lover had surprised him. The sight that greeted him was a swirl of colorful fabrics, carefully stitched together in tidy clusters.

Sherlock gently brushed his hand over the layer of cloth immediately visible, appreciating its softness under his fingertips, before finding the edges and lifting the entire piece out of the box.

“It’s a quilt,” he said, a wrinkle of confusion flickering between his eyebrows before he could prevent it. He wasn’t quite sure why John was buying him bedding when they had a linen closet full of blankets and duvets, but he knew the appropriate response. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” John replied. “But you look like you could use an explanation. … I made it. For you. The individual blocks remind me of some aspect of our lives together.”

“You … quilt?” Sherlock spared a glance of surprise at John before his eyes were pulled back to the fabric as he began trying to pull the meaning from each square. “Why? When? How?”

“Well, my medical training taught me how to hand stitch, obviously,” John said. “I don’t quilt all the time, like some people do. But I sometimes feel the urge. It helped with stress in Afghanistan. No so much after I was shot. I picked it up again after … well, After.”

Sherlock jerked his head up at that, his gaze locking on John as his heart leapt into his throat with the strain that always seemed to come into play when his time away was mentioned. But John didn’t seem unduly fretful; he must have known the topic would arise then.

“And you managed to do all of this while I was out?” Sherlock asked. “I didn’t realize I left you behind that often.”

“Welllll,” John drawled. “I might have added to our calendar a few more shifts at the clinic than I actually worked. Mrs. Turner let me set up my sewing machine in her attic and pop over when I could.”

“I knew there were times when you were particularly stubborn about not leaving work to join me on a case,” Sherlock said, his pride in John’s sneakiness coloring his words. “That rash of food poisonings two weeks ago? Not on?”

“Nope,” John confirmed smugly. “There were two cases — a bride and groom who made the mistake of eating leftovers from their reception after they returned from their honeymoon to an otherwise empty refrigerator at their flat — but that was it.”

“I’m impressed, John,” Sherlock said, standing up and shaking out the quilt until he could spread to its full size across the back of the couch. “Now, care to tell me the story of my quilt, or should I tell you?”

“Go for it,” John said. “We’ll make it a game. For every block you guess correctly, I let you conduct one sexual experiment on me — limits apply. For every block I have to explain, I get to return the favor. The person who ends up with the largest number of correct explanations gets to decide what we do under that quilt immediately after we finish this discussion.”

“Agreed,” Sherlock said, pulling John into a kiss that left John gasping as Sherlock began his first deduction.

“Top left corner … [basic log cabin block](https://33.media.tumblr.com/97ebe9cb05c21c1b9a700f85d9443fb8/tumblr_njrmks9fUA1rzx1h1o1_1280.gif), if I recall my art history,” he said, his tone indicating he was confident that he did. “Basic black and white fabrics with a bit of yellow and a bit of red. Symbolizes this flat. The wallpaper, Smiley, your chair — the rug by the fireplace where we first kissed. Correct?”

“Correct,” John confirmed, planting a kiss on Sherlock’s jawline.

“That one,” Sherlock continued, pointing to the next block in the row. “It’s a [house](https://40.media.tumblr.com/60ecd3f43a37124937d1aad1c593a973/tumblr_njrmks9fUA1rzx1h1o2_1280.png). I will assume it’s as obvious as it appears and say it is another symbol of our home. Though the third block seems less clear. I would say it was yet another reference to home, but it is nothing but [orange and white squares](https://36.media.tumblr.com/60a360303ec0d38a0290a6959b6ff894/tumblr_njrmks9fUA1rzx1h1o3_400.jpg).”

“Correct on the second block, of course,” John said, grinning. “I’ll give you half credit on the third one. Quilters call that block ‘Urban,’ so it also represents our bigger home — London. The choice of orange fabric is for your shock blanket during ‘A Study in Pink.’ And, no, I didn’t cut up an actual shock blanket to cull the fabric.”

“Orange.” Sherlock said. “There’s always something.”

“Half credit, though. So far, you’re up by two. Keep going.”

“That one also seems a bit obvious,” Sherlock said, leaning in to tap a finger on a block featuring a [tea kettle and cups](https://41.media.tumblr.com/cf96d4699a29908c62bcebb3f7866f00/tumblr_njrmks9fUA1rzx1h1o4_r1_250.jpg). “Don’t tell Mrs. Hudson but you are, in fact, my favorite tea maker.”

“Up by three. How about that one?” John asked, pointing to one done in [green fabric on a white background](https://40.media.tumblr.com/155a91c2c94619e17e7a35d5deeadde8/tumblr_njrmks9fUA1rzx1h1o5_r1_1280.jpg).

“It’s not a DNA map,” Sherlock said, focused on the square. “It’s not mould. A bridge through Regent’s Park?”

“Nope. My point,” John gloated just a bit. “That is a ‘Jacob’s Ladder’ block. I did it in green because of that first text you sent from my mobile. You know — if the brother has a green ladder, arrest the brother’.”

“Clever, John.” Sherlock said sincerely. He would consider being worried that their contest remained so close. Except it wasn’t a game either of them was going to lose when all was said and done. Most definitely not after all was done.

Sherlock let that thought put a fresh smirk on his face and returned his attention to the quilt.

“This one roughly resembles [a claw](https://40.media.tumblr.com/4d5d5583bed580f931cc33305545154b/tumblr_njrn7xwxkH1rzx1h1o1_1280.jpg),” he said, pointing at one block with several points edging a base square. “It’s not quite accurate, but I’m saying Baskerville.”

Sherlock turned to await John’s response and was rewarded with a nip to his earlobe. John had edged closer as the game progressed.

“That’s a bear paw,” John said once he had stopped paying attention to Sherlock’s ear. “It’s not a dog’s paw. But neither realistic dog quilt patterns nor cartoonish dog quilt patterns seemed appropriate for the hound. I doubt I’d be more scared to encounter a bear in the woods than I was of the hound during that case.”

“True,” Sherlock said.

“How about these two?” John asked, drawing Sherlock’s attention to neighboring blocks of [triangles](https://41.media.tumblr.com/141cc73223b0daea1a352b6698ea5c3b/tumblr_njrn7xwxkH1rzx1h1o2_400.jpg) and [squares](https://38.media.tumblr.com/18fb9b863093232dc22be3b7d2ecad0b/tumblr_njrn7xwxkH1rzx1h1o3_250.gif).

“In the way that a bear’s paws are not dog paws, the triangles could instead be arrowheads, standing in for a harpoon tip. The other looks a bit like the cube thing on that video game.”

“You mean the companion cube on ‘Portal’?” Sherlock’s affirmative nod earned a negative one from John. “Nope. No ‘Portal’ references. Not too far off, though, all things considered.”

“Explain.”

“You’re conceding on both?”

“Yes.” 

“The block of triangles is ‘Dutchman’s Puzzle.’ I chose it because of your fondness for a good puzzle. The other one is called ‘Fool’s Square’. Not quite an idiot. But not far off, I don’t think.”

“And how about these arrows?” Sherlock asked, indicating a block that clearly had [four arrows](https://40.media.tumblr.com/22bfb486ac67232e854fb48e5bc60d1d/tumblr_njrn7xwxkH1rzx1h1o4_r1_250.jpg) pointing in different directions.

“Another reference to London — ‘London Roads’,” John said. “And the chase you led me on that first night. Done in brilliant colors because it was such a brilliant night. I do believe we’re all tied up now.”

“Not yet, John,” Sherlock said with a subtle leer. “But the night’s still young.”

“I meant the score in our game, you git,” John said affectionately. “But don’t count that as an objection to the idea. In fact, I do have some strips of fabric left over if I need to use them when I win.”

“You seem very certain of yourself,” Sherlock said, turning a predatory gaze on John and leaning farther into John’s personal space to claim his mouth in a heated kiss. By the time they separated, both were more than a bit breathless. Sherlock wondered if his lips were as kiss-swollen as John’s. “The game … is still on. Though we could always finish it later and experiment on the quilt’s ability to keep us warm while naked in a bed together.”

“I think the controls of that test might end up skewed,” John grinned. “But let’s see how quickly you can get through the rest. That one …”

“... has [four patches](https://40.media.tumblr.com/34a3b78a742fde93ef8277f96e4947a1/tumblr_njrnnfc5xD1rzx1h1o1_250.jpg). A quilterly reference to a three-patch problem, with a spare patch for good measure.

"And that one … contrasting fabrics intended to showcase each other, the way our strengths and weaknesses are complementary.”

“Right on both,” John said. “A four-patch block and the one called ['Night and Day'](https://38.media.tumblr.com/39443b5a43eb5db98c5f56b572828072/tumblr_njrnnfc5xD1rzx1h1o2_r1_250.gif). I’m not sure which of us is night and which is day, but I suspect we take turns.”

“Are the stars a reference to my lack of knowledge of the solar system?” Sherlock asked. “I did rectify that, you know.”

“I know, and no. They’re not. One is a ['Friendship Star Variation'](https://41.media.tumblr.com/3c9b5084ef8c80e58171398c1b457164/tumblr_njrnnfc5xD1rzx1h1o3_r1_250.jpg) and one is a ['Spinning Star'](https://40.media.tumblr.com/fdbdd7bfaac300571b303c2747c7b0c6/tumblr_njrnnfc5xD1rzx1h1o4_r1_400.jpg). You are my best friend, my North Star — and a whirling dervish of a human being. Those blocks are you.”

John tucked himself in behind Sherlock, chest to back, and rested his chin on Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock relaxed into the embrace, feeling inordinately touched. He recognized the feeling for what it was — sentiment — but didn’t at all feel as if he was on any losing side. He felt as if he’d won the lottery, except better.

“We’re back to being tied — at six and a half each,” John said, a bit more quietly, pulling back and severing the last of their physical contact to let his hands rest at his sides.

The move felt off to Sherlock and he turned to search John’s face before frowning slightly and turning back to the quilt.

“There are three left, John. You didn’t intend for them to be the last ones in our game, debated using them at all. … Oh.” 

Sherlock knew then, as he looked at the remaining bits of the quilt top, just what he was seeing. As it always did, a wave of fresh pain washed over him, lingering in his skull, his chest, his abdomen.

“John.”

“Go ahead, Sherlock.”

“I can’t. I won’t.”

“I know you see it. Just say it.”

It was the Fall. Played out in fabric — [the "magic trick"](https://41.media.tumblr.com/a0a698d3563922ca6ba8b4ccd45149ac/tumblr_njrnxhV2hv1rzx1h1o1_250.jpg) in the lay of the cards, [the actual "Fall"](https://41.media.tumblr.com/1e5e4b93a46632b94f9f99a7b760ec57/tumblr_njrnxhV2hv1rzx1h1o2_500.jpg) in the watery cascade of blue transitioning to a splash of red down one edge of the quilt. The emotional turbulence — a ["storm at sea"](https://40.media.tumblr.com/d495c1559911e751739ee91faf4487f4/tumblr_njrnxhV2hv1rzx1h1o3_400.jpg) — John felt as he tried to cope with a fake death that was all too real to him.

“It’s …” Despite John’s encouragement, Sherlock couldn’t go on. His throat suddenly felt too tight for words to squeeze through.

“Yes. I did those parts while you were gone.” John finally spoke for him. “I started this quilt with those parts, actually. It was therapy. Working through those pieces helped me to work through the grief until I could focus — after your return — on the parts recalling our better times. Which led to now — the center block.”

“And what is it called?”

“It’s ['Kiss'](https://41.media.tumblr.com/5764e08867a97cbd3731a6f3f7d492d5/tumblr_njrnxhV2hv1rzx1h1o5_r1_400.jpg). Your absence just about broke me. But while that time is a big part of us, it’s part of our edges. It’s not at the core of us. The Kiss block? That symbolizes what’s important. You. Me. Us. Our connection.”

Sherlock was no longer looking at the quilt at all, his attention too riveted to John’s face, the deep blue of his eyes, still shadowed with pain even as he fought through it.

“I love you, John. And I will … treasure … this quilt as much as I treasure the man who made it for me.”

Sherlock leaned in then to cup John’s face in his hands and press his lips to John’s, the slightest pressure being all that was needed to gain him access to John’s mouth. The kiss lasted for long moments before Sherlock finally broke away and smiled gently.

“I will admit defeat. Disqualifying myself from certain parts of the deduction, even if I knew them, you still beat me by one block. I am at your command for the rest of the evening. I believe you mentioned something about leftover fabric strips?”

The heat in John’s gaze made Sherlock feel just a bit light-headed.

“Yes,” John said, tracing the tip of his tongue along Sherlock’s jaw before nipping the tender spot just below his ear. “Mostly left from the map of London I created on the quilt back. Considering how good burgundy looks against your pale skin, I think we’ll try Central London tonight.”

“I always did like the heart of the city,” Sherlock replied, letting his tone go low and rumbly next to John’s ear.

“I think I know something else you’ll like,” John said. “I believe there’s one more thing in the box.”

Sherlock tilted his head as if in question but turned back to the sofa and lifted the edge of the quilt to get to the box now buried under it. He pulled out a pillow with yet another block on it, this one consisting of [four thin lines of ovals](https://38.media.tumblr.com/9f2d14b9a16b72685c79164cdb05735b/tumblr_njrnxhV2hv1rzx1h1o4_r1_250.gif) set on a broader center and trailing out to the block’s four corners.

He turned back, pillow in hand, only to see John already heading for the bedroom.

“What’s its name?” Sherlock said, his cheeks flushed even before John could confirm his deduction with a single word tossed over his shoulder.

“Beads.”

**Author's Note:**

> I found [this amazing quilt](http://www.tikkilondon.com/LondonTubeQuilt1L.jpg) — depicting a map of the London Tube — on the website for [Tikki Patchwork](http://www.tikkilondon.com/), apparently a quilt/fabric shop in Kew Gardens, West London. My head canon is that John saw the quilt and loved the idea but opted not to use it, based on Sherlock's disdain for the Tube. Instead, I think John created a quilt back depicting a map of London, neighborhoods clearly defined — [like this one](http://www.pro-activewestlondon.org/image-cache/image-417-orig.gif) — and maybe a few extra stitches here and there pinpointing the location of key cases or highlights in their personal history.
> 
> P.S. Why Sherlock's initial response — Thank you! — is a good start when someone gifts you with a handmade quilt, his "I will treasure it like I treasure its maker" is a much better finish! (I'm giving him credit for not initially realizing it was handmade and not initially understanding how much thought and effort John put into it.) :-)


End file.
